The Price
by ChiefArmourer
Summary: Price is the one stabbed by Shepherd and rescued by Soap. Family is drawn into the battle as the last remnants of the 141 seek to complete their primary objective and put an end to WW3 before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Price

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (Alternate Ending/Alternate universe)

Summary: Price is the one stabbed by Shepherd and rescued by Soap. Family is drawn into the battle as the last remnants of the 141 seek to complete their primary objective and put an end to WW3 before it's too late.

Warning: Violence, mention of torture and some profanity, reader discretion advised.

Disclaimer: Any character recognised from the Call of Duty Series is the property of the game makers. This story is written for no profit. Any opinions expressed by characters are not that of the author and do not intend to cause any offence.

Note: Reviews are appreciated, along with useful criticism. Apologies for any grammatical or spelling mistakes, I'm only human and computers aren't perfect.

Well, there's all the official stuff. This is my first story up, so I hope you all enjoy it.

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-1-  
A Shift in Fate

Price choked up water, chest heaving and lungs burning from the near drowning he'd just experienced. He'd shot at the Helo too late, by the time he'd lined up and fired they'd been too close to the waterfall, well and truly caught in its power. He'd yelled at Soap to back up, but the small Zodiac just hadn't had the strength to pull them back from the edge.

They'd gone over.

He rolled over as his head began to clear after being starved of usable oxygen; he couldn't see Soap anywhere; was he still in the river, drowning, begging for his help? But as much as he desperately wanted to search for one of the few friends he had left, there was a task far more important. One single objective:

KILL SHEPHERD.

It didn't take much effort to find the downed Pave Low; the hulking transport helicopter with its six rotor blades had been reduced to a wreck that would have made Nikolai cry. His knife put the two crew members out of their misery, as one crawled for the empty expanse of the desert, the other with a last click of defiance. Then Shepherd appeared from the haze, stumbling from the wreckage, fate hadn't allowed the crash to kill him, no, this blood soaked sand craved a battle. He swung out with his combat knife, stupidly; Shepherd had already spotted him, fleeing into the swirling sand. The coward, but he didn't get far; the Captain found him leaning against a wrecked car that must have become victim to the vicious attack of the sands for years, a silent witness to this chapter of their stories.

Price was a highly trained soldier of the Special Air Service, Shepherd a decorated US Army General. Price had gone over a waterfall; Shepherd had survived a helicopter crash. Normally they would have been evenly matched, but Price two days out of a three year stint in hell; three years of torture and abuse at the hands of Makarov's minions had taken a heavy toll on him. It wasn't really a fair match, Price thought as he went from one moment swinging his blade at the murderer, to staring up as the blade came down, its sharp tip and razor edge breaking through skin and the protective shield of his ribs, puncturing the delicate lung below.

_Oh God! _His mind cried, the pain matching that horrid day five years ago when success had turned bitter; that bridge had stolen his friends, and almost his life.

It was paralysing. He couldn't move, couldn't fight or flee as Shepherd loaded a single fresh round into the chamber of that damn .44 Magnum, Price was nothing but a loose end, like Ghost, and that poor boy Roach, he never had said sorry for punching him.

"Five years ago I lost 30 000 men in the blink of an eye, and the world just fucking watched, Tomorrow there will be no shortage of volunteers, no shortage of patriots,"

_Just shut up and shoot me your bastard, don't try and justify this, you lost men, I lost friends._

"I know you understand."

_Get ready Zakhaev, I'm coming. _

He braced himself for the bullet, the silver barrel levelled towards his head; he'd failed, all his years of service, all the sacrifices he'd made, and he'd die a traitor. Shepherd's lie would be carved as truth to endure for a thousand years, while theirs turned to sand. It wasn't fucking fair!

"Price!"

Seemed fate had other ideas.

His eyes snapped to the side as Soap came charging into the midst, barrelling into Shepherd as he pulled the trigger, the bullet missed, kicking up dust beside his head. A swift kick form the Scot sent the gun clattering to the dirt nearby, the paralysis was gone and a surge of adrenaline gave him strength. Price dragged himself in agony towards the pistol, his fingers brushed the cold metal as Soap crashed to the floor in his view, and Shepherd kicked the gun away.

_No! You f…_

A boot cut off any further thought.

He felt numb, detached, as the world faded in and out, playing a juddering view of the battle before him. Captain MacTavish was taking on his General, his commanding officer, seeking revenge for the death of his men. He was fighting for his life. He was losing; the river and mad dash to save his mentor had sapped what little strength he had after the turmoil of the last few days. He couldn't let him down, on the bridge he'd given him his gun, but it was empty now, and Shepherd had seen to his knife, he had nothing to give him, except.

It burned. Every millimetre was paid for in blood and torment, but finally it came free, dripping with his blood. With a spin that he'd once told Soap was a pointless flourish he'd never need, he caught the tip. He might die, but Shepherd would be dead, and Soap would live to ensure that the truth was told.

By some irony Shepherd looked up the exact moment he threw the knife, and with sweet satisfaction it sunk deep into the man's eye, killing him instantly. He'd done it. But as he watched Soap's motionless, lifeless body, he worried that it had come too late.

"Soap!" He gasped, the other Captain hadn't moved, "Soap!" It hurt, but he dragged himself towards his friend, blood staining the sand as his heart pumped ever more of the precious fluid from the hole in his body, onto the thirsty sand, "Soap, wake up!" He begged as his vision wavered, the words tearing from his throat in a scream. The body shook with a hacking cough, the younger man finally waking. For a moment he stared at his former CO with blank eyes, which went wide as he saw the blood.

"Price!"

Soap's mind and body kicked into action, pain forgotten as the mentor rolled limply onto his back. It took only a split second assessment to see that Price was in a bad way, he was losing blood fast and the force of the blow must have cracked ribs. Pulling it out again hadn't done Price's condition any favours either.

"Come on Old Man, stay with me!" He begged, Price offered him a weak smile as he head lulled despite the coaxing, he was bleeding out far too fast. Warmth flowed over Soap's hands even as he applied pressure and dressings. His breathing came in wet rasps accompanied by red foam dribbling from between his lips. Soap knew what it all meant, internal bleeding, a punctured lung filling with blood, coming closer to collapse with each breath. Price was drowning in his own body, courtesy of his own blood. He tore open another field dressing and pushed down with all his weight, this time Price cried out, heels scraping at the dirt; Soap couldn't have been happier, the Old Man still had some strength left in him. The fresh dressing was saturated in seconds; he dug out the last and tied them off as tight as his tired and abused body could manage.

He met Price's eyes, the Captain was fading fast, and they had no way out of the bloody desert! He heard the thundering sound of approaching rotor blades and bowed his head. Shadow Company had come to finish them off; he just hoped they'd finish it quick, Price deserved that much. He pulled out a Morphine auto-injector, hoping to make Price's passing as comfortable as possible. But as he met eyes with his friend for what he thought would be the last time, he stilled his hand. The steely look in Price's eyes told him that he wanted to meet death with his eyes wide open and defiant, not in a drugged up haze. Soap gripped his hand and whispered a prayer he had not thought of since childhood,

_Yee, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil…(__1)_

"I know you said this would be a one way trip," Soap's head snapped up at the sound of the familiar Russian accented voice,

"Nikolai!" He gasped, not quite believing his own eyes, Price had told him not to come back for them.

"Though it still might be, they'll be looking for us you know," With the pilots help they managed to get the injured Captain to his feet,

"Nikolai, we need to get Price out of here," Soap insisted over the roar of the blades,

"Da, I know a place."

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(1) 23rd(22nd) Psalm

Draft of the next chapter is written, but it still needs work, hopefully I'll have it up in the not too distant future.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Modern warfare characters nor do I make any profit. OC's are my own creation.

Notes: Took me a little less time than expected, now that I've figured out how to get the memo's off my phone.

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-2-  
Meet the Family

Price had been fading in and out of consciousness for the entire trip. His memory recalled vague images of Soap and Nikolai, of other resistance fighters, some man injecting him with a very large needle. Interspersed with it were images of memories he'd rather have left buried, Pripyat, the bridge, the Gulag, those three years in hell had taught him a lot about himself. He recalled being jostled as gunfire filled the air around him, shouts and screams, then nothing.

Soap spared a glance for the wet and bedraggled Russian Loyalist across from him. Without Yuri's help they would never have got Price through the streets of the town to the Little Bird, he'd driven the UGV expertly, Nikolai had been right about his skills.

"Are you alright?" Soap called over the roar of the rotor blades,

"Da, just a little chilly. How is your friend?" Soap looked back down and carefully tucked the flapping blanket back under his shoulders, for the most part he was sleeping, or unconscious, Soap couldn't tell. For a brief moment Price's bleary blue eyes drifted open, and he gave a lopsided smile,

"Get some rest Old Man," Soap told him as his eyes drifted back closed, "He'll pull through," It had been touch and go for a while, but Price was a hard bastard, he'd pull through. Soap sat back and let his mind drift back to a day five years ago, on a Russian bridge, when for a few seconds at least, Captain John Price, had died. Only the stubborn streak of one Russian loyalist soldier had saved his life, refusing to give up to him. Price was a survivor, always had been; the bridge, the Gulag, three years in that frozen hell hole, thirty minutes had been enough for him. Soap still hadn't received any more than a grunted 'I'm fine' from the old Captain on that subject. He wasn't fine, not really, the others may not have been able to see it, but they hadn't known Price as well as he had, he could tell. Soap had seen the fear in his eyes, the deep self-loathing, and the terrible state he was in physically, in a fight with a normal, healthy, Price, Shepherd would have been pummelled into the dirt.

"Not much further," Nikolai cried from the front, by the slight wobble in his voice Soap guessed that their fuel situation was not good.

"Good, I'm cold," Yuri grumbled; he'd had to forgo a blanket as they were all wrapped around Price, the injured man needed them more,

"Where the hell are we going?!" Soap cried, he barely caught Nikolai's reply,

"To a friend."

Their landing was far from elegant, even by Nikolai's standards, entirely too rushed. When the engine spluttered and the rotors died only a few seconds later, Soap realised why.

"Stay here," Their pilot called, stumbling comically in his rush to get out of the cockpit, Soap cast his glance around the area they had landed, there was very little to see, just a small, shack? He couldn't quite call it a house, it was wooden and rather small; so shack would do. Nikolai was met at the door by a woman, who promptly slapped him and started screaming in Russian. Seconds later the Russian was swamped by several children! The woman left him, a clear smirk on her face and headed towards the helicopter,

"I don't think friend is the right term," Price mumbled, one eye cracking open,

"Hello John," The woman said softly, she was a short woman, five foot five at the most, with mid length dark brown hair, and a comforting, but serious face,

"Hello Sara," Price mumbled in reply, his breath coming in short, wet gasps; she started to pull down the blankets,

"Now let's take a look at you," Sara's face grew graver as her preliminary examination progressed, "Alright, let's get him indoors," She announced to the soldiers, neither offered any argument. Price's moan turned to a scream of pain despite their best efforts to remain gentle.

"Easy John," Sara soothed as they deposited the injured man on the bed in a hidden back room off the kitchen, "ouch, that looks like a boot," she commented, pulling the almost constantly present boonie hat off and carefully inspecting the bruise pattern that was blossoming across her patient's face,

"It was," Soap replied, stomach churning as he recalled the moment it had been lights out for the elder captain,

"Alright, you two, shoo, I have a patient to attend to. Nikolai, dry this man off!"

There was a tense silence in the kitchen as the soldiers waited for news. Soap attempted to ease his ever growing tension by passing the time watching his companions, new and old. Yuri was huddled in a blanket and clean clothes, sipping on homemade soup; the Scot felt too sick to eat. Nikolai was staring down lovingly at a little boy who couldn't have been any older than two, completely dead to the world in his arms.

"Nikolai, where are we?" Soap finally asked, rather like Price he didn't like to be in the dark; the Russian looked up from his tiny little world, startled, but soon remembering how little his friend knew,

"Oh, this is my home," He replied, Soap frowned, "That was my wife, Sara Belenski, and this is my youngest, I have three others," The captain's eyebrows went skywards,

"I never knew you were married." He replied, in all the time they had spent together Soap had never asked Nikolai about himself, he'd never really got to know any of his friends,

"You don't even know my real name," Nikolai reminded the other man, "That is between me and my wife, and Captain Price. My little ones just call me Papa." That explained the earlier reaction to the Russian's arrival, both wife and children, they likely would have all preferred Nikolai to be home, "My wife used to be a surgeon at a big Moscow hospital, but now things are too dangerous, because of me," He looked down with a sigh, quite obviously ashamed of what he had put his family through in pursuing his allegiances, "I picked Nikolai as my code name because she had a grandfather in World War Two by that name, he had a very bad reputation, but thankfully he died on the eastern front," His attention snapped to the toddler the moment he started to stir, "Hello Stas," He sat the boy upright, neither of the special forces soldiers could stop themselves from smiling as he rubbed his sleepy eyes with balled fists,

"He looks like a mini version of you," Soap commented, reaching out and ruffling the boy's dark hair,

"Stas, this is my friend Soap, he is very good friend of uncle John," The boy immediately pointed back into the sitting room, a sure look on his little face, "Yes, from the picture," Stas reached out for Soap insistently, Nikolai passed him over giving Soap little choice in the matter; the Scot was a little startled when the boy stood up on his lap and started to play with his thankfully clean mowhawk.

Heads whipped around as the door opened and Sara stepped out at long last,

"Mama!" Stas cried, the tired but smiling woman collected her baby, planting a kiss on his pudgy cheek,

"He's stable," She assured Soap, "His lung is re-inflated and he's breathing somewhat comfortably on his own. He's also suffered a dislocated shoulder and a very severe head wound. Ideally I'd want to keep him awake, but he's just too exhausted and in so much pain. Nikolai, what happened to him?" The Russian man hesitated, eyes glancing at his toddler. Sara nodded in understanding an lowered her son to the floor, whispering into his ear in Russian; he quickly scampered off, Nikolai shutting the door behind him,

"We fished him out of a Gulag," Soap mumbled, "I don't know what that bastard Makarov had planned for him; break him, or save him for when he had me too. I thought he was dead, otherwise I would have gone after him," Soap felt like crying, he had since he'd found his mentor and friend, overwhelmed by guilt for going on with his life and career while Price has suffered unimaginable torment,

"That explains why he's so malnourished and the level of fresh scaring on his body," Sara poured herself a mug of coffee and sat down at the table with the men, "Now, give me the whole story, leave nothing out."

Sara sighed to herself as she ran a critical eye over her patient. She'd gotten everything her husband and the Scot knew about the Englishman's incarceration out of them. The whole story would have to come from Price himself, a difficult task, considering how well she knew Price. His chest was covered in bandages, hiding much of the abuse his body had taken, old white scars, inter dispersed and cut through by fresher pink ones, and even barely scabbed over wounds that pre-dated the injuries he'd received in his battle with Shepherd,

"Oh John, what have you done to yourself?" She whispered, his eyes fluttered ever so slightly, and one less swollen eye crept open, revealing a tiny slit of blue,

"Sara," He whispered with a slur, she hadn't given him any pain medication, but the head injury spoke for itself,

"Hello sleepy head, how are you feeling?" She watched as John's usually keen mind tried to get a grasp of his surroundings,

"How long have I been here?" He mumbled in confusion,

"Not long, the kids wanted to come and say hi, but you're in no state for their usual hellos. Come on, progress report Captain," She prompted, one small attempt at movement had him grimacing in pain,

"Not good," He admitted, "Haven't been good for a while," To get that admittance from him truly told her how much pain he was in,

"Do you want something to take the edge off?" She offered, he was awake and mostly alert, so she was happy to give him something, if only something mild, Price's face screwed up in pain

"Please, god my chest is burning!" He moaned; she watched as he relaxed just a little, the pain killer taking effect allowing Sara to begin a full assessment,

"Now, was anything hurting before this mess? I know you, you didn't let the medics anywhere near you when they broke you out," He blushed, Sara was the only person who could make him feel like a naughty little boy, and get him to spill all of his dirty little secrets,

"Um...I broke my left wrist about four weeks ago in a fight, the plaster sort of disintegrated in the showers last week, it still hurts," He revealed, Sara rolled her eyes and worked the sling supporting his shoulder down gently, the limb was still slightly swollen to her eye. Of course he'd gone and run around shooting guns for the last two days, that certainly never helped,

"Well, it's plaster for you mister, I'd love to do an x-ray, but my home x-ray machine doesn't turn up until next Tuesday," she said with a dead pan expression, John chuckled, a smile she hadn't seen in a long time breaking across his face, "Hello there John, nice to see you out and about, Price can be awfully grumpy. Shall I give Ella a call, she can being Ivan over if you want, he'd love to see you," Price hesitated, could he risk bringing his wife and son into this bloody mess of a conflict for his own selfish need to see them, "He's twelve going on forty John, he needs his father," A wave of guilt washed over Price, he'd missed most of his boy's life, maybe it wasn't selfish, if Ivan wanted to see his father as much as he wanted to see his son, they both needed each other,

"Call them, Soap deserves to meet my family, can you call him in?" Sara nodded,

"Cast first mister."

"Uncle Nikolai!" The cry of excitement rang through the kitchen as a brown haired blur barrelled into the Russian pilot, catching him off guard and nearly knocking him over,

"Hello Ivan," He replied with a chuckle, "Ella," He greeted the woman that followed him through the door, her brown hair barely contained in a hurriedly prepared bun,

"Hello Niko, what brings you down here?" She asked, knowing full well what her friend could be risking with his visit home. The man simply indicated to the open door that was usually locked and concealed. Ivan's curiosity got the better of him first, he slipped into the room that he knew his honorary aunt used to treat hurt people occasionally. There was a man sitting in the overstuffed leather chair kept in the room, pulled up next to the bed, he had a rather a strange haircut and looked a bit like he had after he'd gotten into a fight with Mikail in the playground one time at school. There was a second man in the room on the bed, Ivan froze,

"Dad," he whispered, in utter disbelief, like he was just an apparition that would vanish, but it didn't, "DAD!" He cried,

"Easy," The man with the funny haircut caught him before he could very irresponsibly throw himself at his injured Father,

"Soap, meet Ivan, my son," Price said proudly, reaching out with his uninjured arm to hug his boy, the boy he hadn't seen in four long years, "Oh you've grown so much," Soap sat back and marvelled at the sight, Ivan was like a mini version of the elder captain, the same features, dark brown hair and intelligent eyes,

"John! Oh my God!" Ella gasped, appearing in the doorway,

"Mum, Dad's back!" Ivan cried in excitement,

"I can see that. Oh John, what have you done to yourself?" She almost cried,

"He was stabbed," Soap replied, "Captain John MacTavish ma'am," He introduced himself,

"Soap, John told me about you last time he visited, Ella Lakefield," She introduced, a clear American accent that she wasn't at all worried about concealing,

"Lakefield, would that be any relation to the former senator?" Soap asked, recalling the scandal, Ella put on a sour look,

"Yes. Daddy dearest, who took kickbacks from the Russian mob, then sold them out to the US state attorney. Ironically I've found myself safer here than in the US. John was over here after a mission with Nikolai when we met. He got me pregnant with Ivan, and went all honourable and married me," She regaled, Price smiled, revelling in the sound of his wife's voice, it had been far too long,

"I'll leave you three to talk in private," Soap excused himself from the reunion and left the family to bond.

Yuri sat watching as two of Nikolai's kids played quietly on the floor. The eldest was busy reading a book, occasionally looking up to check on her siblings, two boys separated by only a year. Stas sat nearby with one of his picture books, perched on his father's lap and pointing things out to him, Nikolai was totally gripped. Sara and Ella were making lunch, leaving Ivan to talk with his father, time both man and boy really needed. Yuri's observations were broken when a ball rolled against his foot, one of the boys, Yuri wasn't sure which, wandered over nervously. Yuri offered as friendly a smile as he could and held up the ball to him,

"Do you want to play?" He asked in a timid voice, taking the ball back; Yuri considered the offer, it has been a long time since he'd allowed himself to relax,

"Da," He replied, "What are we playing?" Soap chuckled as he watched the ex-spetsnaz soldier sit on the floor with two young children, carefree,

"They're wonderful kids," He commented, peering down at the book when Stas tugged on his shirt, pointing insistently at his picture book,

"Da. You need to have children my friend. You would make a wonderful father," Soap was of two minds about that, he did like the idea of being a father, but he had to find time to get into a relationship first,

"I don't know, haven't had much time for women, and that's the first step," he mumbled, Nikolai slapped him on the back jovially,

"Why didn't you say so my friend, Sara has many single lady friends," he cried, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively causing the Scot to break into gales of laughter, he remembered Nikolai's lady friends from the hospital. Soap sat back, still chuckling to himself, maybe one day he would, for now he had Price to worry about.

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Well, there's chapter 2, I hope you all enjoyed it, please read and review.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Modern warfare characters nor do I make any profit. OC's are my own creation.

Note: Happy New year everyone, sorry it took so long, life sort of overtook things for a while.

A reminder of the story so far: Price was the unfortunate recipient of Shepherd's blade and has been taken by Nikolai to his wife for treatment. Price and Nikolai have both been reunited with their families and the Brit put on the road to recovery.

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-3-

Back on his Feet

Price groaned in pain as Soap and Yuri aided him in standing for the first time in five very long weeks. His legs felt like jelly, joints aching almost as painfully as the chest wound had only a few weeks ago.

"Easy Dad," Ivan told him, watching the proceedings from the bed, Stas sat beside him flogging a poor toy bunny against the bed, awfully pleased with himself. Sara had had a battle to keep Price horizontal and resting, something she was very familiar with, and with her husband being of a similar breed Sara Belenski knew how to play dirty, her baby son as a co-conspirator. Stas had spent most of the last five weeks sitting on the bed beside Price, making much complaint whenever his charge attempted to move. Price privately admitted to himself that it was nice to get to know the god child he'd never met before now.

"Whoa, head rush," Price mumbled as his ears rang and his vision swam, a rather too familiar dizzy feeling, he hated lying about.

"Take it easy," Sara advised, pulling a chair nearby just in case he lost his balance, "How are you feeling?" The British Captain rubbed his chest, it still hurt, but nothing like it had when he'd pulled the knife out,

"Better, I think you can dismiss the warden," he teased, waving to Stas who had decided to stop assaulting his bunny, he looked up with a huge baby grin,

"Mama!" he cried, reaching out for her, Sara smiled, but she had her hands full,

"Nikolai, your baby needs attention," the woman called, her husband's head appeared around the door, frilly apron just visible around his neck, he was helping his daughter make cookies,

"He called for you," he moaned, Sara rolled her eyes, sometimes she felt like she had five children, Nikolai could be just as much of a baby as Stas,

"I'm busy, take your baby, he needs to get to know you better," Sara declared, Stas pouted as he was lifted off the bed by his father, he liked getting his way, and daddy wasn't mummy. Sara shook her head with a chuckle, like father like son. Stas was still very young, unfortunately he'd been born in troubled times that saw his father often away from home; it was Sara's greatest fear that they would lose Nikolai for good.

"Are you feeling alright John?" Ella asked, she always worried about her husband, but seeing him so weak and vulnerable had terrified her,

"I feel better, now that you're here," he said, reaching out to take her hand,

"We're here for you John," she assured him, "You're not alone," they shared a brief kiss, for Price it was good to be with family again, he'd missed them, the thought of seeing them again kept him going on missions; and the sheer bloody mindedness that he wasn't going to give up on life.

"Well, you're discharged into your wife's care; I can't keep you in bed any longer," Sara joked, before turning serious, "Do try and take it easy John, you need to build up your strength slowly," he nodded, for once he was actually going to follow his doctor's advice.

It was late, Price sat with a soft smile on his face as he watched his beloved son sleep, he remembered similar sessions when Ivan had been only a tiny baby sleeping in his arms, he missed his son, missed seeing all the wonders of a growing child, his child. Ella slipped into the room and wrapped her arms around her husband's shoulders; she knew he regretted what he had missed,

"He's a wonderful boy, you should be proud of him," Price smiled, gripping her hand in his,

"I am," he replied, "I just wish I'd been here for him, been a father," he said with regret, he and his own father's relationship had sometimes been strained, but he'd always been there for him, Ella shook her head,

"Oh John, we were never destined for the white picket fence life, Ivan doesn't hold it against you, he understands why you do what you do," she assured him,

"I have to protect you both," he muttered, his family meant everything to him, Ella was his love, and Ivan was his future,

"Come on Mister, it's time for bed, and I haven't seen my husbands in quite a while," Price smiled and allowed himself to be pulled off towards the waiting guest room, home was where the heart was, and this was home.

Soap smiled as he spotted Price being dragged off by his wife; it was good to see his two friends reunited with their loved ones, they were happy, and that lifted his mood as well. But he worried that this tranquillity would soon come to an end, they were hunted men, magazines and television still reported two SAS commandos at large, wanted for the murder of General Shepherd. It made him angry; the world was so fixated on finding them, that they were forgetting about Makarov, it wouldn't be long until the bastard took advantage of the world's distraction to cause chaos.

The problem was, he was after them as well, Soap wondered if it was a grudge against Price for his part in Zakhaev's injury and downfall that drove Makarov, or fear of the British Captain. If anyone could put an end to his madness, it was Price, Soap was confident of that.

The Scottish Captain pulled his jacket around himself; there was a chill in the air, the stars shinning bright in the cloudless sky. He and Yuri had elected to share stag duty, four rotating watches throughout the night, with regular, armed, patrols, and security sensors courtesy of Nikolai's paranoia about his family's safety; a paranoia that was well justified considering his position in the loyalist hierarchy, his relationship with Price and of course his past history with the Ultranationalists, he was a wanted man.

"How are things my friend?" Yuri asked as he appeared on the porch, bearing fresh coffee for himself and hot chocolate for the Scot to help him sleep,

"All seems quiet, but my stomach isn't sitting right, someone's out there," he said, Yuri set down his drink and picked up the thermal scoped rifle, scanning the surrounding area, he could see nothing, but,

"Da, I have the same feeling, perhaps we should think about moving, we've been here far too long," the Russian muttered, Soap nodded in agreement, they had stayed only due to necessity, Price hadn't been fit to move, so they'd stayed put despite their better judgement. Nikolai had already prepared his family, he hated the idea of taking them from their home, but they may not have a choice.

A small bleep from a tablet PC drew Soap's attention, and everything about his demeanour changed, "Perimeter alarm!" Soap hissed, picking up the tablet and checking the warning, he spotted military boots passing the camera, their enemy had finally found them, the question was, who? "Get the others, we have to move," cups clattered to the floor as the two soldiers flew into action, Yuri burst back through the door,

"We have to move!" He cried, "Enemy approaching!" In the bedrooms parents and children flew out of bed, hastily dressing, as Stas burst into tears at the shock of being woken. Price winced as the hasty action tugged at his still sore injury, but he ignored it, he had to get his son,

"Ivan!" He cried,

"Dad!" The boy was already dressed, hurriedly tying his boot laces, his bag sitting on the bed,

"Good lad, come on we have to move," they ran out to greet Nikolai with a screaming Stas in his arms, terrified by the goings on that he just didn't understand; the adults shared his fear. The staccato crack of a sniper rifle filled the air, Soap had engaged the enemy.

"John, go!" Ella insisted, "We'll get the truck loaded," Price hesitated, something he usually never did, but he had never had his family in the middle of a battle before,

"Take care," he called, pulling his wife in for a kiss, and hugging his son, before running to aid Yuri and Soap.

"What's the situation?!" The Captain cried, slinging on webbing and attaching his weaponry, Soap nodded to his arrival before sighting back down the rifle and taking another shot,

"Unknown assailants," Yuri reported as he passed the sharp shooter an RSASS, "But in my opinion, it's Makarov's men," Price agreed with his assessment, after all Yuri would know, he had worked with him. Price shouldered the sniper and balanced the bipod on the table,

"Goodbye," he opened fire, hitting three attackers who dared to show their heads anywhere where he could get a shot, this was what John Price excelled at. As the attackers drew closer Yuri opened fire with an AK-47, and Soap popped off a few grenades from an M203.

"Price, we are loaded!" Nikolai cried, the three Special Forces soldiers moved back through the house, as he ran Price spared a moment to look, he had been in this house many times, it was his friend's home, now it was going to be destroyed, and it was partly his fault.

"Come on, let's go!" Soap cried as he dived into the back of the truck with Yuri, Price flew in behind them; Sara had her children hunkered down in the back, while Ella sat with Ivan in the front,

"Nikolai, floor it!" He cried; the truck leapt to life, tearing off into the night as gunfire cracked around them. Soon the roar of pursuing engines reached their ears,

"Shit, we're out numbered and out gunned!" Soap cried desperately, trying to get a shot at their pursuers as the truck flew over uneven ground, Price felt his heart drop, he was going to lose his family, and cost Nikolai his.

RPG fire unexpectedly started raining down onto the road, for a moment they thought they'd driven straight into a trap. Except it wasn't them being fired on; behind them the pursuing trucks exploded into fire balls and they soon found themselves pulling away from their attackers, right into someone else. Nikolai pulled the truck to a stop in front of the road block created by their saviours, for one horrible moment they thought the Americans had finally caught up with them, saving them just to take them in themselves. That was until Nikolai started to grin and cry out jubilantly in Russian,

"It's the loyalists!" He cried, never had he been so happy to see them, the three men in the back slumped in relief as Sara tried to calm her children, Ella and Ivan lending what help they could,

"You looked like you could do with some help," A new voice cried, an English voice; a woman approached through the group of loyalists, removing a scarf and goggles from around her face. Soap felt his heart flutter; she was beautiful, shoulder length brown hair that seemed to shimmer in the artificial light of the car headlamps.

"Who are you?" Soap demanded, putting on his best bravado front,

"Bond, Jane Bond," the woman replied dramatically, several eyebrows quirked,

"Are you serious?" Soap cried, the woman chuckled,

"Nah, just playing with you handsome," she said with a wink, approaching the two captains, "Now, you must be MacTavish, are you really called Soap?" She asked, the Scot felt himself blushing, and hoped the dim light hid it,

"Don't ask for the story, he still hasn't told me," Price teased, much to his fellow Captain's embarrassment,

"Ah, Captain Price I presume," she greeted, extending her hand to the man, Price considered the offer for a moment, then shook her offered hand,

"Yeah, John Price. So, who the hell are you?" He demanded, she chuckled,

"Cathy Miller, former MI6, but I still have some contacts, I had a feeling Shepherd was up to something; things just seemed to go too well for him, you boys were his scape goats," she explained, it was nice to see that some people in the intelligence service had some intelligence.

"Well Miss Miller, thanks for the rescue," He expressed for all of them,

"No trouble, we'd been tracking that group for the last few days, but you've got more trouble, the CIA will hear about this in no time, we have to get well away from this area," Price nodded in agreement, their priority was to keep the children safe, he hated exposing his son to conflict, he should have been innocent of his father's bloody world.

"Have you got a base?" He enquired; Cathy chucked Soap a GPS,

"It's a few hours' drive, co-ordinates are already on that if you lose us," Soap was left gaping as she winked and headed off to her own truck,

"Close your mouth lad, don't want you choking on flies," Price teased, Soap snapped his mouth closed and shock his head,

"Watch it Old Man."

The journey took them over some rough terrain, along unmarked tracks that were kept carefully hidden for security. Thankfully the children had dropped back off to sleep by the time they were under way, Stas in particular had finally stopped wailing, safely asleep in his father's arms. Soap and Yuri had taken over responsibility for driving, allowing the parents to focus on their children,

"How is he?" Yuri asked, looking back over his seat to see the other Russian man, Nikolai shifted Stas' weight in his arms, adjusting the blanket so he didn't grow cold,

"He was very scared, we woke him up, jostled him about, and he didn't understand what was going on. Oh what have I done?" He lamented, looking down at his young son whom he had very nearly got killed,

"You either give up family and go through life alone, or you take the risk, for love," Yuri replied kindly, "He's young, they all are, they'll bounce back," Nikolai nodded his head slowly, understanding Yuri's point, but it didn't stop him feeling absolutely wretched.

The convoy pulled into an old Soviet base, it didn't look like much; the group were quickly shepherded out of their truck and into the heart of the complex, where warm beds were provided for them to sleep in, they were all exhausted, parents, children and companions,

"Well handsome," Cathy called to Soap as he and Yuri prepared to bed down in a shared room, "I'll catch you all in the morning, the boss will want a word, but he can wait 'til you're all ready for him." She threw a casual salute and slipped away. Soap was distracted from his mindless staring by Yuri's quiet hum of 'love is in the air',

"Oh shut up."

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Well, there it is, I hope 4 doesn't take as long, it is written, just has to be checked over, sometimes my grammar is appalling.

If you like it, or have any suggestions, please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Modern warfare characters nor do I make any profit. OC's are my own creation.

Note: So here we are at chapter 4, Price has finally found some allies, but Makarov isn't the only one hunting for him now.

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-4-

CSI Delta

Gear was piled all throughout the base threatening to trip anyone who failed to pay proper attention; the soldier had already passed the ever expanding infirmary, the injured spilling out into the halls, this war was chaos. He'd been called in by command, Team Metal had just returned from defending the city of New York for the Russian invasion, they had been the ace in the hole, the last ditch effort to try and turn the tide on the invading Russian forces. They'd succeeded, the jammer that had been blinding them and preventing communication and air support, had been reduced to a pile of twisted metal; and their success with the SEAL team to turn the Russian's weapons against them had driven the Russian fleet back and off their land. His team had performed well, Master Sargent Sandman was proud of them, he'd been hoping for some rest, but that was wishful thinking, they were at war after all.

"Ah, Sandman," Overlord greeted as the still damp soldier stepped into the command centre; it was a hive of activity, Battle Captains sending orders and controllers reporting engagements and troop movement. The fleet may have moved back off the coast, but there were still some pockets of Russian troops that had been left trapped in the city by the rapid retreat, they had to be rounded up before they allow themselves to take a breath.

"Sir," he saluted,

"Well done lad, you and your team turned the tables on the Russian," Overlord congratulated, he'd had a hard few weeks, Metal had been their last ditch resort, he's never publically admit how close they'd come to a complete collapse of their defences. It was too scary a thought to think that their survival had rested in the hands of four men, highly trained though they were.

"Thank you sir," He replied, but he knew he wasn't just there to be congratulated; Overlord had a mission for them. The senior officer led the NCO into a make-do-and-mend office in the back of the command centre, just a pokey store room with a few boxes to provide a desk. His demeanour turned very serious as the door closed and they were sealed off into privacy,

"I understand from your record that you worked with Task Force 141 in the past," He said, Sandman stood very straight, he'd been thoroughly questioned following recent events with the 141; the incidents at the safe house in the Caucatious Mountains and the Bone yard; and the attack on site Hotel Bravo that had resulted in General Shepherd's death. If they hadn't been at war he and his team would likely have been put on leave.

"Yes Sir, but I don't believe they were traitors, particularly not Price, he and Makarov have so much history neither would tolerate the other," He defended his fellow soldiers , and friends; he'd been particularly pained to hear that it had been one of Sargent Foley's men at the airport in Russia. Overlord nodded, he could understand Sandman's loyalty, he'd met Price briefly at a meeting with Macmillan a few years ago, back before the Zakhaev incident; he commanded a lot of respect.

"Well, that investigation is for another time. Regardless of their motives, Price and MacTavish were responsible for the death of a US General and US troops. Our intelligence sweeps of Russia reported an Ultranationalist attack on a house in southern Russia; we think it could have been them, Makarov seems to be on their trail as well," Sandman left out his thought that Nikolai was the Pilot aiding them, he was definitely on the Ultranationalist hit list, "We want your team to insert into the area and investigate, track down Price, and bring them in," Sandman didn't show his hesitation, these were his friends, he didn't want to hunt them, but better him, than someone else.

"Yes sir, I'll have my team ready in ten hours," he replied dutifully, Overlord nodded, allowing the men some rest, they deserved it after their last mission.

They'd been billeted in an old canvas tent; they were tight on space with so many troops assembled. His team were waiting for him when he returned, eager to hear what their next orders were. They were good men, Frost was young, but he was sharp, a soldier with a promising future, as long as he could stay alive through this war. Truck was their wheel man, a late joiner to the forces, he'd taken an engineering degree, but he had no interest in being an officer. Grinch was the wild card, a career soldier like himself, but a trouble maker, most commanders didn't like his joking about. But in Metal, they all fit together, complimenting each other perfectly, they were one of the best teams the US Army and Delta Force had to offer.

"We're going after Price," He stated, really all he needed to say; he watched as their faces fell,

"Sir," Grinch broke in, "I won't shoot at John, either of them," the other two men nodded in agreement, Sandman was glad he had a consensus of opinion.

"I know, but it is better that we go after them, than people who don't know them. We know Price and Soap aren't traitors, and they must have had a damn good reason to go after Shepherd. But someone else might shoot first and not bother with asking questions," He explained, his men needed to know he was on the same wave length, "Get some rest, we leave in ten hours."

The Loyalist base looked no better in the day; they were buried into a hillside so there was really no way to tell the difference. The equipment and furniture was a mess of old and new, not particularly organised, some seemed to have been left over from its active days, the rest likely moved in when the Loyalists took over. Nikolai hummed to himself as he collected his breakfast, Stas clinging to his neck, the toddler hadn't let go of him since waking, seemed he wanted Daddy to keep him safe. The two families had been given a table separated slightly from the rest of the Loyalist soldiers in the mess hall; he glanced back over, Nina was helping Anatoly with his toast, while Sara helped a still frightened Sergei with his breakfast, leaving him with the responsibility of a very clingy Stas. Secretly he was overjoyed that Stas has come to him for comfort, of course he hated that his little son had been upset, but five weeks ago he would have been running to his mother when he was upset, even when his father was closer

"You want a yogurt?" He waved the pot in Stas' direction, but the boy was hiding, if he couldn't see people, then people couldn't see him, perfect logic to his young mind. Nikolai sighed and placed one on the tray, he already had a plate full of traditional military breakfast for himself, he hoped to tempt Stas with something from the mixture of fruit and cereal.

"How is he?" Price asked, joining his good friend at the food, finally emerging with his own family, seemed the bachelors were being the lazy ones today.

"Oh he's being very clingy, just wants to be cuddled," He stroked his baby's back, whispering to him in Russian, Stas took a brief peek to see his godfather, before darting back to cover, Price patted his back, whatever made Stas feel safe was fine.

"Here, let me give you a hand with that." Little ones and trays of food didn't mix.

Eventually Soap and Yuri appeared, looking a little ruffled buy clearly glad to have not had to take watch and get a few good hours sleep,

"Hello everyone," Cathy greeted, "hay handsome," She addressed Soap, much to everyone else's amusement, "The boss wants a word, and he's whinging about not getting his way, damn baby, I bet you don't moan about everything," She addressed Stas, tickling the boy's cheek, Nikolai chuckled and gave his youngest a little squeeze,

"Oh, he has his moments. We'll be down in a few minutes, if I can get this one to let go of me."

Cathy threw a casual salute, and winked in Soap's direction before sauntering off, being sure to give the Scot's following eye's a good view,

"Soap and Cathy, sitting in a tree," Nina said in a sing-song voice, Soap reached over and playfully flicked the girl's nose,

"Don't pick up bad habits like that lass," He warned her, but the girl just snickered along with everyone else.

They were inserting by HALO jump, they had kit to last several weeks, they were deep behind enemy lines, uniforms partially concealed to allow them to move more freely, but still there to offer them some protection should they be captured. Though when Sandman thought back to Price's capture, uniform hadn't proved to be much protection with a man like Makarov calling many of the shots.

"Jump in thirty!" The operator called, sandman nodded to his men, they returned it, Metal was ready to roll. A roar of wind filled the C-130 as the cargo ramp descended; opening into a pitch black night, the darkness would help to hide them.

The rush of air thundering by, solid ground approaching at terrifying speed, keeping careful watch of altitude and direction, to ensure they landed together, and in the right place. Parachutes snapped open sharply, slowing their descent at a bone jarring speed, the landing was almost too fast, rattling joints and forcing air out in a 'ouff', but they were on the ground, though far from safe.

They bundled up their parachutes and Sandman silently signalled to the cover of a nearby rock formation; they couldn't afford to waste any resources on this mission. They were deep behind enemy lines and cut off from their own forces, the only potential allies were the Loyalists.

"Everyone alright," He called, all of his men offered positive confirmation, there was no joking on this mission, even from Grinch. "Alright, we'll move up to the house and take cover there for the night, best to investigate when the sun is up."

It was a tense night, no one really managed to sleep; as the sun rose over the silent plains and hills the team switched to CSI mode. They found the dead left where they had fallen, a fair few from well-placed sniper fire, inside the house everything had been turned over; clearly it had been searched by the Ultranationalists. As Sandman made his way through what he guessed had been the sitting room he picked up a fallen photograph, it was a family image, and he instantly recognised the man sitting with the woman and four children, all with cheerful smiles on their faces.

"It's Nikolai," he muttered, holding it up for the others to see, they all knew the Russian, he'd helped the 141 out a few times,

"You think this is Nikolai's home?" Truck asked, looking around, there were children's books and toys scattered across the floor, discarded in the rush to flee,

"Poor guy must have been hiding his family all these years," Grinch muttered, there were a few other photograph frames broken in the search, some people he didn't recognise, some he did, Price in particular, looking a fair bit younger. It seemed the Russian and the Brit had known each other for quite a while.

"Sir," Frost called, "You need to see this," The youngest team member had dragged a cabinet aside to reveal a hidden door missed by the previous search, inside was a small room, intended to treat the injured by the supplies in the cabinets,

"This is why they came," Sandman muttered as he picked up a forgotten and very bloody boonie hat, Price's no doubt. Investigation at the site in Afghanistan had revealed that Price had been seriously injured in the fight with Shepherd; Nikolai must have brought him here for treatment.

"You think he's alright?" Grinch asked, Sandman shrugged, if the room had been sealed, then Price hadn't been lain up at the time of the attack, some of those sniper kills had to belong to the expert sharp shooter.

"I hope he is; we need him."

Nikolai was able to pass his baby over to his wife with only a few tears from Stas. The base was old, no doubt built during the cold war, for what Price would have to see more to figure out. They asked for directions from a passing Loyalist soldier and were pointed to what had once been the officers' quarters. 'The Boss' was a young-ish man, who appeared to like playing king of his domain; they were all quick to put him in his place, especially Nikolai. Contrary to his appearance and personality, Nikolai held a very senior position in the Loyalist hierarchy; Price knew that part of how he portrayed himself was a front; he appeared nervous, unsure of himself and a little clumsy. But Nikolai had a sharp mind, careful and calculating, to survive as a spy he had to be. But it was Price, who was the undisputed leader of the group,

"Get your head out of your arse!" He barked to the upstart who dared think he could order them around; Price was a law unto himself sometimes, "You didn't save us, she did," He pointed to Cathy, who had been amusing herself by seeing how colourful she could make Soap blush,

"You're trouble," He stated, "The Ultranationalist and the Americans are after you, I don't want to get stuck in the middle," Nikolai snorted,

"We are fighting the Ultranationalists, not hiding in holes; there is an inherent risk to that. We need to get in contact with Kamarov, do you know where he is?" He demanded, not bothering with niceties, his family was at risk. They had a love hate relationship with the red headed Russian, he was useful, he'd saved them on the bridge, but he could also be quite an annoyance. But they preferred him to this idiot; at least he understood and appreciated what was going on.

"Last report has him north of here," Cathy replied, "I'm heading up that way tomorrow. Rumour has it he's in contact with the SAS," Price nodded his head slowly,

"Mac," he muttered, too softly for anyone to hear. That was good. He needed to speak to his old CO to see what the US and Makarov were up to.

"We need to keep moving," Cathy nodded in agreement, it wasn't safe for them to stay put anywhere in Russia for very long, and ideally they needed to get out of the country and the continent in general, particularly the children. They wouldn't be safe until they were out of Makarov's, and the US Military's reach, she just hoped there was such a place to be found.

* * *

One more out of the way! Five is in the pipe line, so who's going to catch Price first? No spoilers, you'll have to wait and see.

Reviews are welcome and any helpful suggestions.


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